untitled
by slashily-obsessed
Summary: Harry helps a first year who doesn't know it yet.


**First Year**

Trembling from head to foot, the tiny child held out her lunch box to the bully. It was a small lunch box, appropriate for the size of the child. It couldn't have held very much. But still, the big bully insisted on taking it from her every day, surrounded by the four other boys that always did his bidding. Unfortunately for them, today they had been followed.

"Aw, come on, Dud. You're fat enough already. You don't need her lunch, too," said a quiet voice from behind the menacing giant that loomed over the girl. The bully's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the voice. He spun around to face the source.

"It's just that skinny bloke, what's his name—oh yeah, Harry," said one of Dudley's cronies without looking up. He obviously hadn't seen "that skinny bloke" recently. Over his sixth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter had grown quite a bit, both up and out. Well-developed muscles on both his arms and torso rippled against the tight black shirt he wore. Granted, he still had the wire-framed glasses and unruly jet-black hair; now, however, the glasses only served to make him look intelligent, and the hair fell in shaggy bangs into his shockingly green eyes to give him an air of depth and quit strength.

The small child whimpered. She knew Dudley Dursley to be one of the most feared bullies in the neighborhood. However, she had also heard rumors about the mysterious boy who disappeared over the winters, supposedly to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They said he was a hardened hoodlum and wouldn't think twice of hurting or stealing from a child like her. Even Dudley seemed afraid of him.

"See, now," Harry said calmly, as though they were admiring the weather. "You've scared her. That's not very nice, is it?" Dudley shook him head mutely. His mates were staring at him oddly, confused at their leader's reaction to this seemingly minimal threat. After all, Dudley was a champion kick boxer; why should he be frightened of Harry?

"Go on, Big D! You can take him!" yell one of Dudley's minions. Harry turned his head slowly to take in the speaker. It was Piers, a little, rat-faced, scrawny thing, who shrank back as Harry's eyes met his own. Harry held his gaze for a few moments before turning back to his cousin.

"Well, Big D?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "D'you think you could take me?" His hand slid into the pocket of his jeans, fingering the long strip of wood that lay there. Dudley's eyes followed the movement, and he shook his head frantically.

"N-no," he squeaked.

Harry's smile seemed the most menacing thing to ever grace the Earth, to Dudley at least. "Now give the lady back her lunch," Harry said patiently. "And scamper home to Mummy."

Dudley bristled at the last comment, but wilted again when Harry's piercing eyes bored into his watery blue ones. Trembling, he handed the little girl her lunch box, then took off as fast as his pudgy legs would carry him. His friends followed, bewildered.

Harry's smile softened as he knelt in front of the little girl. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly. "Did Dudley hurt you?"

She shook her head frantically. "I-I'm fine," she squeaked, clutching the lunch box to her chest. Oh, please don't let this boy hurt her, please! What had she done to deserve _two_ bullies?

As though reading her mind, Harry sighed. "I won't hurt you. Whatever lies the Dursleys have been feeding you, I'm not a criminal who would hit or steal from children. In fact, I am trying to stop that fat pig of a cousin I have from doing just that."

His eyes were very sincere, so the little girl began to believe him. Like puppy dog eyes, they were, if puppies had green eyes. They were dark and sad, as though the puppy had been kicked and didn't know what it had done wrong.

"Okay," she murmured, and Harry smiled. Oh, the girl loved that smile, so bright and happy. No where hear one that a hooligan might have.

"Why do you have a lunch box, anyway?" he asked, sitting back on his heels and cocking his head to the side. "Isn't school out for the summer holidays?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah, but Mum still packs me a lunch whenever I go to the park or something, so I don't have to come home just to eat."

"Ah," Harry said, nodding his own head.

"Aw, how sweet," said a voice from behind Harry.

"Domestic Harry."

"Adorable."

"This'd be a perfect picture for Witch Weekly, don't you think?"

"I can see the headline now: Teen Hero Not Too Busy for the Children."

The little girl's eyes widened and she looked at Harry for his reaction to these new intruders. Harry's eyes were closed, and the corners of his mouth were quirked up.

"Hullo, Fred, George," he said, standing and turning around.

"Hullo, Harry," said one of the red-headed boys, who was leaning casually against the wall of the nearest house. His twin stood next to him, grinning.

"Let me guess. You're the ones they sent to make sure I don't do anything stupid?"

"Got it in one."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm seventeen years old. I think I can take care of myself now. Or have you brought nappies to change me and a bottle for my lunch?"

Fred and George laughed. They strode toward Harry and enveloped him in a hug, mussing up his hair even more.

"So," said George, glancing down at the little girl who seemed to be hiding behind her lunch box. "Who's the new lady?"

Harry extracted himself from the twins' grip, straightening his crooked glasses. "This is…er…" He faltered, looking down at the girl. "I'm afraid I don't recall your name," he said apologetically.

"Willow, but my friends call me Willie," she said, with only a hint of a squeak.

"A pleasure to meet you, Willow-but-my-friends-call-me-Willie," said one of the twins, kneeling and bowing his head as though in front of a queen.

His brother followed suit. "I'm Gred, and this is Forge, my evil clone."

The other looked up in genuine surprise. "I thought _you _were the evil clone!" he exclaimed.

"No, Forge, _you're_ the evil clone."

"Oh."

Willie looked up at Harry, bewildered. He was snickering.

"Never listen to a thing either of them say," he laughed. "And never eat anything they give you."

The twins looked slightly hurt, but Willie saw the mirth in their eyes.


End file.
